


Gifts of the goddess

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Series: You and I could end the world in fire or blood [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Banora, Family Dynamics, Homecoming, M/M, Pre-Slash, apples as metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 15:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18167114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: For someone who claimed to hate his hometown, Genesis was oddly eager to bring Sephiroth there. Everyone in Banora greeted Genesis like the prodigal son returning home, except for the people he cared for most. Sephiroth was the only one surprised when he set the tablecloth on fire.~In which Genesis's parents are completely prepared for Genesis's fiery response to being ignored, Sephiroth falls out of a tree, and apples become tools of seduction.~





	Gifts of the goddess

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for posting these totally out of order. I'm posting them as I finish them, and I tend to write all over the place. I will edit the series though so if you go by the number in the series rather than the date posted then they will be in order.

For someone who claimed to hate his hometown, Genesis seemed surprisingly excited to bring Sephiroth there. The Shinra transport dropped them at the edge of the village, and they walked the rest of the way on a winding dirt road to a provincial little town. The roads were cobblestone, and in the absence of a mako reactor, most of the people seemed to rely on chocobos for transporting goods and people.

“Home sweet home,” Genesis said, spreading his arms grandly as they walked down the main thoroughfare. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” Sephiroth said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Genesis had a bitter love-hate relationship with this town, while for Angeal it was cloaked in a pragmatic but still sweet nostalgia.

“That’s diplomatic,” Angeal said wryly, but didn’t seem too bent out of shape.

They stopped in to meet Angeal’s mother, who was beautiful but sad, like a faded photograph. She talked softly and offered them freshly made apple cookies, which were delicious. She was kind to Sephiroth, and slightly deferential, and truly delighted to see Genesis and Angeal. It was clear she loved them both like her own sons.

They didn’t stay long—Genesis was clearly eager to show Sephiroth more of the town. Angeal stayed behind, and Genesis took Sephiroth on a tour of the most important places—the general store, the juice factory, the chocobo stables where he used to race. Everyone greeted Genesis like a conquering hero returning home, and then asked in whispered tones if that was “the General Sephiroth,” and if they could have an autograph. Because they were important to Genesis, Sephiroth obliged.

Sephiroth had always known that Genesis came from money, but standing in front of Genesis’ childhood home, he realized his friend’s family must be the richest in the town.

They were ushered in by a maid who spoke to Genesis in a barely audible, deferential voice, her head tilted to the floor, then led them to a sitting room where Genesis’s parents were waiting.

Sephiroth studied them, wondering how two people so stern and austere had possibly created someone as vibrant as Genesis. Both husband and wife had narrow, pinched features and thin, disapproving mouths. They stood and greeted Genesis with the same kind of polite nod one might give a stranger on the street, then turned their attention to Sephiroth and ignored their son entirely, acting as though bringing “the General” to their home was Genesis’s greatest accomplishment.

When Genesis set the tablecloth on fire an hour later, as they were seated and waiting for dinner to be served, Sephiroth wasn’t terribly surprised. The odd thing was—neither was anyone else. The quiet maid threw a pitcher of water on the flames that seemed to have been placed at hand for that very purpose.

“Genesis,” the mother said, her voice soft but steely stern. “We have a _guest._ ”

“Fine,” Genesis said, standing up and throwing his napkin dramatically onto the table, where it landed in the flame of a candle and started yet another fire. “Enjoy your dinner then. I’ve had enough.”

Sephiroth put out the fire with an ice spell while Genesis stormed out, as it seemed Genesis’s family had only been prepared for one fire. Genesis’s parents continued eating as though nothing had happened. Sephiroth extricated himself as quickly as he could without being overly impolite, and went in search of Genesis. Having no clue where to start, he decided to find Angeal and ask for his help.

Angeal was eating with his mother and a few neighbors, and unlike the prim silence at Genesis’s family’s table, the Hewley household was warm and rocking with laughter. Angeal kissed his mother on the cheek and led Sephiroth into the kitchen so they could talk. Sephiroth told him what had happened, and Angeal just sighed, looking unsurprised.

“This is what he does every time he comes home. His parents do something upsetting, he sets something on fire, storms out, and then apologizes the next morning.”

“I see,” Sephiroth said. “Why did he want to come here if that’s what happens?”

Angeal shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like it’s programmed in all of us that we’re supposed to make our parents happy. Every kid wants their parents to love them. That’s what it is, at the heart of it.”

Sephiroth turned this over in his mind. He’d never had parents, only Hojo and the other lab techs. But he despised Hojo. Had there ever been a time when he’d craved Hojo’s love, his approval?

_Yes._ He remembered, though he would rather forget. A scrawny kid with silver hair, throwing his all into every test of strength and skill and intellect, hoping for an approving glance over the top of those thick glasses, a nod and a smile from the only person who seemed to care for him at all.

“I guess that’s a tactless thing to say to an orphan,” Angeal said, looking awkward.

“It’s true,” Sephiroth admitted. “And it doesn’t matter. This is about Genesis. Where do you think he is?”

“He’s probably in the orchard,” Angeal said. “I could go but…it will mean more if you do it. Do you mind?”

Sephiroth shook his head. He had the odd feeling that he had ruined Genesis’s night with his parents, though it had obviously been beyond his control. He was out the door and on his way to the orchard before he thought to ask—why would his presence mean more than Angeal’s?

He walked through the town in the rapidly gathering dusk until he reached the orchard at its west edge, the orchard Genesis’s family owned. It seemed dark enough that he might not be noticed, so when he was safely away from the town, he extended his wing and took to the sky. From there, he flew over the orchard until he found Genesis.

Genesis was a red blur among the trees, Rapier swinging wildly through the still night air, dancing among the leaves without cutting a single stalk. To Sephiroth, it seemed more beautiful and powerful than any of the poetry Genesis loved to quote could ever be. This was poetry of the body, the grace of his movements, the strength and surety of his grip.

He perched in a nearby tree and watched until Genesis finally stood still, breathing hard. Then Sephiroth retracted his wing and leaped down to land beside Genesis, rustling the leaves of the apple trees as he fell.

Genesis gave him an odd sideways look. “You have a strange habit of falling out of trees.”

While it was true that Sephiroth often ambushed enemies from the treetops in the thick Wutai forests, he certainly never _fell_. He leaped, which was an entirely different manner, and he always landed on his feet either way. But he decided not to take issue with it. “Angeal said you’d be here.”

“And he would know.” Genesis sighed. “Why do I come back here?”

Sephiroth shrugged. He hadn’t the faintest clue. “If it were up to me, I’d never go back to the place I grew up,” he said.

Genesis looked at him for a long moment, long enough for Sephiroth to feel slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Why do you go back?” he finally asked.

Sephiroth closed his fingers around the hilt of the Masamune, unaware that he’d summoned it. He held it tightly. The question made him feel afraid, made him feel like his mind would tear apart with it. He had to go back when Hojo summoned him. _He had to._

“Seph.” Genesis pointed to an apple hanging from one of the tallest branches of the tree. “I want that one. Cut it down for me.”

Sephiroth sliced through the air with the Masamune, and the apple fell into Genesis’s waiting hands. He shined it on his shirt, an oddly rustic gesture, then took a bite. Sephiroth watched him swallow, and lick the juice that lingered at the corners of his lips. He smiled his wicked smile. “If I asked you to cut down this orchard, would you?”

_Yes._

Sephiroth let the Masamune dematerialize and did his best to look indifferent. “It would depend on why you asked.”

Genesis closed the distance between them, still smiling. The moonlight shone on his smooth skin, twinkled on the silver of his new earring. “And if I asked because I wanted it?”

“Is that what you want?” Sephiroth asked, hesitantly.

Genesis grinned and held out the apple. “Try it.”

The apple was sweet and crisp and pleasant. It was all the things an apple should be.

“I had my first kiss out here,” Genesis said, leaning against one of the trees. He had another apple in his hand, but wasn’t eating it. He just tossed it up and caught it, again and again. “She was the daughter of one of the workers at the factory. I told her she was just like these apples, sweet and true.” He smirked. “It worked like a charm with her, and her brother, and several others.”

Sephiroth told himself it was ridiculous to feel annoyed at the thought of this long gone girl’s hands on Genesis, or any others. Genesis could do as he wished—it had nothing to do with Sephiroth.

“What did they tell you?” Sephiroth asked.

Genesis gave him a startled look, then laughed. “Nothing I didn’t already know, I can assure you.”

“Hmm.” Sephiroth looked him up and down, thinking. _Like wildfire. Beautiful, dangerous, and utterly impossible to control._ He would never speak it, though.

“Maybe someday I’ll burn this all down,” Genesis said wistfully, looking around him. “But not today.”


End file.
